Hey. How are ya? That’s cool, but I don’t really give a shit about you. That’s not your name at the top of this page, is it? That’s right–it’s mine. And the only reason I put it there was because if you type my name into a search engine this doctor with the same name as me shows up 100,000 times before anything remotely related to me does. With your continued visits to this site, you can help me realize my dream of surpassing that doctor. Lives depend on it.
So I showered and had a slice of pizza before leaving to pick up Daniel (I can’t refer to him a “Z” when he’s wearing a suit) and Ilya. The drive into the city was easy, it took three lots to find reasonable parking that wasn’t either closed after midnight or overnight parking only, I ended up only spending $26 which isn’t bad at all. We dropped off Ilya near Columbus Circle so he could meet up with Sarianna, and Dan and I headed for the Hudson Hotel. That place is pretty swank. The front is very nondescript, and it’s just a sliding glass door leading to a foyer with two narrow escalators that lead up to the lobby.
I followed the velvet ropes around the corner and we were greeted by two giant bouncers who said, “Sorry, this is a private party.”
Even when dressed to the nines, the sad truth is we still look like complete idiots.
The bouncer might have been a little nervous, after I gave my name he proceeded to flip a bunch of pages on his list and drop everything on the floor. I picked up his clipboard and said something like, “best to get it out of your system early.” To which he responded something about us being the first people to show up. Great. We made a concerted effort to leave late and we were still the first people there? Ugh. Hollywood.
They let us pass and we walked inside. Wow. This place is pretty chic. Instantly spotted Nat, who was looking way more put together than normal, and seemed way less neurotic than I would have expected given the circumstances. He introduced us to someone named Stephen who kept apologizing to Nat for having yelled at him earlier. Nat did a good job of responding to being talked at with sundry superficial responses. Then he pointed our way to the bar. Apparently the whole shindig was sponsored by Pravda Vodka, and any drink that included Pravda was free. We got some vodka tonics and sat down in these very modern chairs that were basically logs with seat-backs sticking out of them. Dina and some of her friends came over and said hi, introduced us to one of the girls who was dressing up as a fake JT LeRoy for the party (I think there were four, total). Ilya and Sarianna showed up, and I think the first thing Ilya said was, “Oh that’s the guy who spins at MisShapes.” Then we all pointed and laughed at Ilya for name-dropping.
I stole all these photos from a Japanese website!
We walked around for a bit and eventually found a little table in the corner where we drank and made stupid commentary for a while. I got another vodka tonic, Dan already had three I think… They were also handing out martinis with onions or something in them. They tasted like shit. Bad job, Pravda.
Ilya and Sarianna.
A lot of people started showing up, there was a pretty wide variety of folks: young and old, hot and hotter, scenesters and foreigners. Asia Argento looked very nice. There were a lot of NYC press people there, from what I gathered. None of the huge names showed up, probably because they ran out of the free booze by midnight. Mick Rock was there, at one point he was taking a photo of a fake JT LeRoy dancing and I literally stuck my phone over his shoulder and snapped the same photo so I could say I took the same photo as Mick Rock.
So immature.
We moved from our table back to the logs and sat there for a while talking, occasionally to other people, and soaking in the scene. When the vodka ran out I got a bottle of Brooklyn Brown that cost $8. I’ll never fall for that trick again. A bunch of old bearded dudes (VIP’s) were smoking pot at the VIP tables, but whenever anyone else tried to light up a cigarette they’d get scolded by security. I guess there’s a fine line between what you can and can’t do at one of these events. We continually made comments about the girl standing behind me and how hot she was, and Ilya and I stopped one of the fake JT LeRoy’s to tell “him” that “his” book sucked.
At some point Sarianna gave Dan some speed and when I finished my beer we went outside for a few minutes, where we befriended a Swedish couple on vacation who crashed the party only to find out the free booze was gone. We talked for maybe five minutes and then Ilya called to say the thing upstairs was dying and he was going to come downstairs soon. Sarianna left, Dan and I talked to some French designer or shoemaker or something, and then I watched Asia and her entourage leave so I figured the party was pretty much over. Ilya came downstairs, I ran back upstairs to get my coat and say goodbye and thank you to Nat. Then I left.
When I got back downstairs Dan and Ilya were gone and the hot girl who was standing behind me was standing against the wall smoking so I walked over and asked for a cigarette because I figured it was the only way I was going to talk to her. Smooth, Evan. Real smooth. Dan and Ilya showed back up, we walked around looking for the car. Dan swore he knew where it was, and I continually made jokes about him because he had said, “I used to work in this area” and yet he didn’t know where the parking garage was. The jokes, they never got old!
Dove home, dropped of Ilya, went to 711, got some nachos and a soda, dropped of Dan, went home and didn’t fall asleep until 6:30. True Romance was on and once I start that movie I can’t not watch the whole thing…
